


Hardest of Hearts

by BekahRose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekahRose/pseuds/BekahRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having his heart broken, Merlin resolves that no one will get the chance to do it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing Merlin fan fiction. Many, many thanks and cookies goes to magikalrhiannon @ LJ for her AWESOME Comma-Killing Skills (and her proof-reading), and to analineblue (also @ LJ) and her AMAZING Hubby and FIL, for helping me with a large-ish section of chapter 1. You are a bloody star!
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and flames are fed to Frank the Fish.

**Prologue**

His hands curled into fists so tight he thought the skin over his knuckles would break in the effort it was taking _not_ to touch the man in front of him.

"I can't do this," he muttered, heart breaking even as the words settled around them. "Gwen's my best friend." 

"But -" Arthur began, his body swaying ever closer to Merlin's. 

"No." The word hung heavy in the air around them, even as Merlin felt his stomach twist and the ground fall out from underneath him. "I'm sorry, I love you, but I can't." Leaning forward slightly, his lips barely brushed Arthur’s cheek. “Goodbye, Arthur.” Merlin murmured before he turned on his heel and walked away.

He felt the heaviness in his chest that was a prelude to tears as he made his way to the mouth of the alley, breathing as deeply as possible to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. Merlin’s mind was already several steps ahead, even if his heart was still back with Arthur. As soon as he was out of the alley he clambered into the taxi that he’d left waiting, murmuring the address to the driver.

Merlin watched as the city slipped past the cab, his reflection in the window looking as washed out and pale as ever, if not more so. When the cabbie pulled up to the flat, he flashed him a wan smile and paid his fare before making his way inside to collect the last of his things. He didn't have much, not now; not since he’d decided two weeks ago that this was it. Little by little, the home he’d carved out for himself in their… Arthur’s flat, had whittled down to one small box of books and CDs and his carry-all.

Scooping up his bag and the box, he looked around the flat one last time, breathing deeply to keep from turning into a sobbing, uncontrollable mess. Locking the door behind him, he shoved the key back under the door and turned, already pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing.

“Gwaine,” he managed, stumbling down to the end of the footpath. “Can you…” He trailed off as Gwaine cut him off and told him to be waiting out the front of the Tube station on the corner. “Thanks mate.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket and made his way to the Tube, feeling as though the weight of the world were dragging on his chest.

\---

Arthur watched as Merlin left the alley from behind the pub, shoulders up around his ears and he felt something in him shift and his heart dropped to his feet at the thought of Merlin walking away from whatever could have been between them. Taking a steadying breath, he made to move away from the wall when the quiet of the alley was disrupted by the side door to the pub opening, laughter and light spilling out onto the cobbles.

“Arthur?” Gwen’s voice floated out to him, “Arthur?” her head appeared from around the door and she stepped out into the night. “Here you are,” she began, her smile falling as she noticed his expression. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, unable to give voice to the words lodged in his throat. As she stepped closer, he hoped that between the dim light of the alley and his fringe, she’d not notice the way he stared at the end of the alley, toward the high street.

“Hmm, you don’t look like nothing’s wrong.” She murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing her face against his chest.

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat, felt the words that he should have said to Merlin settle in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. “I’m fine, honestly.” He whispered, “Just needed some air.”

Gwen made a humming sound in the back of her throat before pulling away to smile up at him. “It was getting a bit warm in there. I think Gwaine keeps sneaking out the back to turn up the heating.”

Arthur dragged his gaze away from the place he’d last seen Merlin and looked down, eyebrow arched slightly in question.

“Elena,” Gwen began by way of explanation. “The warmer it seems to get in there, the more she threatens to just run around in her chemise.” She shook her head. “She’s removed her jacket and light cardigan and unbuttoned her blouse already.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Elena and Gwaine would make a fine pair, if they ever stopped flirting long enough to have a conversation. At the thought of his friends and their long, drawn-out flirtation, his mind drifted slowly to Merlin. He wondered momentarily if that was how he and Merlin began, the twisting feeling in his stomach however, cut his thoughts short as Arthur realised he and Merlin stopped before they could ever truly start.

“Gwen!” A dark head of messy hair poked around the door and Arthur blinked in confusion at the glare he received from Gwaine before the other man looked to Gwen.

Gwen spun on her heel and met Gwaine’s gaze, her eyebrows rising before she narrowed her eyes at Gwaine’s short, sharp nod. As he retreated, she spun and stepped back, holding Arthur at arm’s length.

“Oh, you foolish, foolish man,” she muttered before giving him a sad smile.


	2. One

_ 22 months later… _

 

He downed the last of his coffee and reached for the folder containing the staff rosters for the coming months. He was grateful for the quiet of the early morning, it gave him a chance to catch up on the paperwork that he’d let slide in the lead-up to the coming weeks. He’d just opened it up when the phone rang.

“Bonjour. Merci pour appeler l'hôtel Avalon. A l'écoute Merlin, comment puis je vous aider?” He rubbed at his eyes, smiling at the rapid-fire French that came from the other end. “Oui, oui. C'est exact, vous libérez la chambre a midi, le quatorze…” He pulled up the booking calendar on his laptop and double-checked. As he double checked, he saw a shadow pass by the windows facing out into the reception area. “Excusez-moi, Monsieur Harkness.” He said softly.

“Juste un moment, s'il vous plait,” he called out when he heard the bell at the front desk sound. A quick look at the time in the corner of his computer and he realised that the morning had slipped away and the first of several guests were already arriving for the weeks ahead. “Nous serons heureux de vous voir ce soir, Monsieur Harkness. Au revoir.”

Merlin straightened his collar and ran his hands through his hair before squaring his shoulders. The week ahead was going to be busier than normal with the arrival of the owner’s son’s wedding party, not that he didn’t mind, just that he knew he was going to be busier than normal while he balanced best man duties and concierge duties. For a brief moment, Merlin wished he’d taken up the offer of going on leave for the next few weeks and then he caught sight of the large wall calendar and grinned; no way was he going to miss the behind the scenes chaos of a last minute and admittedly out-of-the-blue wedding for his friend, coupled with trying to organise the Avalon’s Christmas party. He winced as the tiny silver bell that sat on the reception desk sounded.

“À venir, à venir!” He called, before making his way to the front desk. “Je suis vraiment…” he trailed off as he came face to face with a very familiar pair of blue eyes. “Sorry.”

\---

Arthur had followed Lance into the hotel, eyebrow raised slightly when the other man had held a finger to his lips to be as silent as possible. It wasn’t as if they weren’t expected; Lance’s parents owned the hotel and Lance had already assured everyone that the rooms being booked were at the expense of the Du Lac family and were all booked. What he hadn’t understood was Lance’s sudden display of mischief; it was almost as if the other man had been spending far too much time with Gwaine.

When Lance had disappeared after ringing the bell, Arthur heard someone call out; no doubt assuring them they were on their way. He waited patiently as Lance stood inside a doorway just beyond the edge of the desk, heading away from the office. When no one appeared, Arthur gave an audible sigh and rang the small silver bell again. They’d been on the road since five. They’d gotten into Paris late enough last night, that all Arthur wanted to do was get to the hotel, get his room key and get some more sleep. He’d been looking forward to two weeks with nothing to do other than sleep, eat, read essays and be a groomsman. He’d even been excited for the upcoming wedding. His date would be arriving the day before, and as much as Arthur had cajoled in the hopes that he’d be able to entice Edwin to take the extra time away from work, he really didn’t mind that for the next thirteen days, he’d be footloose and fancy free; that had been the plan at any rate.

He could hear the exasperation from the other side of the office door, and couldn’t help the small shiver that ran down his spine at the timbre of the voice on the other side, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. When the door to the office opened, Arthur felt his entire world shift and his stomach drop. He felt as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room as he stood looking at the man who’d disappeared from his life almost two years ago. With the muttered ‘Sorry’, Arthur took a deep breath, all of a sudden, acutely aware of Lance standing, waiting to make his grand entrance.

“You speak French.” It wasn’t a questionbut a statement of fact, and one that sounded faintly accusatory. He hadn’t even been aware he’d spoken out loud until Lance bounded past him, pulling Merlin into an enthusiastic hug.

Before Merlin could say anything, a voice piped up from the doorway just beyond the desk.

“Pre-rec for working here I’m afraid; parents wouldn’t have it any other way, isn’t that right, Basil?” A young man, not much older than Merlin swept around the desk and pulled him into a hug, laughing brown eyes to match the smile of delight on his face.

The by-now familiar nickname and the arrival of his friend managed to pull Merlin from his stupor and he grinned. “Lance! I wasn’t expecting you until later,” he said, ignoring the glare from the man still standing at the reception counter.

Lance shrugged and turned to face their companion. “Arthur, this is Basil, well… Merlin, but I call him Basil.”

“Basil?” The name rolled off of Arthur’s tongue as though it tasted bitter.

“Yeah, you know… Fawlty Towers… Basil was always… bumbling…” Lance trailed off and shrugged. “Guess you had to be there,” he muttered before smiling. “Anyway, Merlin’s not just my best man; he’s the manager-cum-concierge.”

“And the receptionist,” Merlin smiled and moved over to the reception desk. “Claudia won’t be in for another fifteen minutes, and Nicholas went to make sure a delivery from the bakery has arrived.”

As Merlin moved around the desk, he did his best to avoid Arthur’s gaze. “Right, well,” he began, clicking through the booking system. “We’ve booked out rooms two through eight for the wedding party, based on what Madame Du Lac was telling me, we’ve also set aside rooms nineteen and twenty-five for the family of the lucky lady and we’ve made several rooms available should anyone need them after the reception.” He slid open the drawer beneath the computer and removed two room cards, handing them across to Lance.

Lance grinned and clasped Merlin’s forearm. “You are brilliant, thank you.”

“Just doing my job, Monsieur Du Lac,” Merlin teased. “So, when do I get to meet the lucky woman who swept you off your feet?”

Lance laughed. “The day after tomorrow, you will have the delight of making her acquaintance, along with the rest of my family.”

Merlin sniffed before levelling a look at the other man. “Your mother is going to have an apoplexy. She thought you’d both be arriving today…” He trailed off.

Lance had the good graces to flush and look sheepish. “She was supposed to, but last minute work changes meant she had to stay behind in London until the weekend.”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin said, smirking. “So, I guess when your mother arrives for dinner this evening, you will be the one telling her?” He had all of his attention on Lance though he could see Arthur, just on the edge of his peripheral vision, standing as still as a statue, back straight and clutching his room card so tightly, his knuckles were white. Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but was saved, thankfully, by the arrival of the bellhop.

“Ah, just the man for the job,” he said, motioning the young man over. “Lucas, could you please show Monsieur Du Lac and his guest to their rooms please. Rooms two and four.” He motioned to the suitcases that had been waiting by the front door, unnoticed as they had been when he’d first seen Arthur. “Breakfast is being served in the main dining room until half ten, gentlemen, now if you’ll please excuse me, I’ve some paperwork that I need to take care of.” Merlin flashed Lance a smile before turning on his heel and trying not to flee from the check-in area, back to his office.

Lance watched Merlin retreat, a tiny frown pulling at the corners of his mouth at his friend’s odd behaviour, before shrugging and turning to follow Lucas. “If you get lost, Arthur, I refuse to send anyone to find you.” He called behind him, laughing when Arthur startled and took several long strides to catch him up.

The entire exchange between Merlin – _Merlin_! – and Lance had been surreal. Arthur had spent twelve months looking for his former flatmate and, admittedly secret lover, along with several of their mutual friends, and he’d been here in France all along. Contemplating what had been said, Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve not introduced your bride to your family yet?”

Lance shook his head. “Not for lack of trying, with my parents at least, but every time they were supposed to meet her, something ended up getting in the way. The hotel, work…” He shrugged as he opened up his room. “But, I’m happy, so they don’t mind too much.” He finished off and yawned. “Not sure about you, but, I’m exhausted. See you after lunch?”

Arthur nodded before heading into his own room. Stomach turning lazy flip-flops as he contemplated all that he’d learned in such a short while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks go out to Analineblue, her DH and her FIL for helping me with the French. I promise you there is a reason it's in there, and not just to make me look all pretentious.
> 
> The conversation Merlin is having on the phone, translates as:
> 
> "Hello, thank you for calling the Avalon Hotel, this is Merlin, how can I help you?   
> Yes, yes. That's right, check out is at noon on the fourteenth.... 
> 
> Just a moment, please....We look forward to seeing you this evening, Goodbye." 
> 
> When he's calling out to the people at the front desk:
> 
> "I'm coming, I'm coming!" and "I'm really"


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hasn't been beta'ed yet, so I apologise for the excessive use of commas, the misplacement of semi-colons and any glaring spelling mistakes. Should you see anything, feel free to point it out.

Arthur’s sleep after their arrival had been restless. He’d lain awake for a while, contemplating going down and confronting the young man who had disappeared from his life nearly two years ago, before nodding off and falling prey to the dreams that had haunted him for nearly a year after Merlin had left. Dreams of chasing after the young man that had come to mean so much to him in the time they’d known each other; the dreamscape twisting and turning as they moved through it, Arthur constantly trying to track down a Merlin that was too quick and too _hurt_ … too far away to stop. When he’d finally woken, the bed was a shambles and his limbs aching as though he’d run the London Marathon, his stomach twisted and turned at the thought that Merlin was near yet still so far away. He had stumbled into the shower then, the warm water doing a great deal to ease the ache in his body, but little to ease the ache in his chest before getting ready for dinner. Standing in the doorway to Lance’s room, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the other man get ready for dinner with his mother, Arthur finally worked up the courage to ask about the ‘manager-cum-concierge’.

“So… Merlin…” He trailed off as he looked to his friend.

“Hmm,” Lance replied absent-mindedly. “He’s a brilliant manager and concierge. Not sure what’s gotten into him today though, normally he’s a lot more approachable and friendly… I’ll have to ask Freya if everything’s all right.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Freya?”

Lance smiled. “She’s the head chambermaid, she was hired the same time Merlin joined us, they’re quite close.”

“You know him well then?” Arthur’s stomach does a lazy flip-flop at the thought of someone other than him and Gwaine or even Will, knowing Merlin as well as they did.

“I consider him to be one of my best friends.” Lance looked at Arthur, eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Why? Jealous about my best man being someone who doesn’t look like they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not in the least, I’m just curious.” And he really was curious, though not about Lance’s choice in groomsmen. He was curious to know how Merlin had ended up in the middle of France, the manager of a hotel and best friends with someone who wasn’t privy to the reasons he’d ended up in there in the first place. It was on the tail of that, when the first of what he was sure to be many ugly thoughts, crossed his mind; perhaps Lance knew what had driven Merlin to France and the wedding was some kind of elaborate ruse to taunt Arthur.

“You’re not even listening to a word I say, are you?” Lance said as he laughed and shoved at Arthur’s shoulder as he approached.

“Sorry, miles away.” Arthur replied, though in reality his thoughts were really only a few floors away.

“It’s all right,” Lance told him, giving him a tiny smirk. “He is handsome in a ‘legs to there, cheek bones you could cut yourself on’ kind of way. But,” Lance continued, “and consider this a friendly warning, Edwin will be here in a week or two, and I won’t have my best man sporting a black eye or a broken nose because you can’t keep your tongue in your head.” He raised his eyebrow in silent warning and Arthur knew he was thinking of the time Gwaine had been on the receiving end of a fat lip because Arthur’s drunken flirting had riled Edwin to the point of trying to physically wedge himself between Arthur and his friend.

Arthur straightened and glared at Lance. “Edwin and I both apologised for that,” he ground out. “For God’s sake, Lance, we aren’t a couple! He knows that he crossed a line and he won’t do it again.”

Lance shook his head. “You don’t…”

Arthur cut him off with a scowl. “You’re going to be late to meet your mother.” He stepped back as Lance grabbed his jacket and hurried past him, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t think this discussion is over,” Lance said as he started down the hallway, heading for the stairs that would take them to the lobby and hotel restaurant.

Arthur shrugged and pulled the door to Lance’s room shut. “Don’t think your mother won’t notice the distinct lack of future _daughter-in-law_ ,” he said as he hurried to catch up, laughing when Lance visibly paled before shoving playfully at his shoulder.

==

Merlin heard their laughter on the stairs as he was getting ready to leave for the evening and without thinking, ducked down behind the reception desk, accidentally pulling Claudia with him.

“Merlin!” Claudia’s face was bright red and her dark eyes narrowed.

Merlin gave her a sheepish smile, feeling the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment. “Sorry, Claud,” he said softly. “You know me, all feet and thumbs. I’m surprised I haven’t lost my head yet.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, low in her throat before shoving to her feet and brushing down her uniform. “A little bit of decorum, Merlin would not go astray.” She lifted her head, and from his place on the floor behind the desk, Merlin could see her cheeks slowly turn pink. “Monsieur Du Lac!”

Merlin rolled his eyes and prayed for the ground to open and swallow him up. Taking a deep breath, he pushed to his feet, perfect smile in place. “Right, I’m off for the evening. Mithian is in the dining room chatting with Madame Du Lac,” he said, reaching for his leather satchel. “I’ll be back in the morning, we’ll do breakfast yeah?” He looked to Lance, steadfastly ignoring the tall blond beside him.

Lance gave a hesitant smile before nodding. He’d been hoping that Merlin would join them for dinner. “Not a problem, Basil. Night,” he said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder before making his way to the dining room, Arthur trailing along behind him.

Doing his best to not watch the pair walk away, Merlin turned on his heel, nodded at Claudia and quickly left the hotel. Once outside in the crisp December air, Merlin felt all the tension that had been building up since seeing Arthur this morning melt away. Two years on and seeing Arthur still made something in his stomach twist, only now there was the added heaviness like a lump of lead at the thought of what had passed between them. He’d spent a large portion of the day inside the office he shared with Mithian; chasing up invoices for florists, bakers and other hotel administration, stopping only when Madame Du Lac had arrived and asked that he join her in the restaurant for a drink before her dinner with Lance, no doubt to interrogate Merlin for information on his fiancé.

As he drove away, he felt the urge to keep driving pull at him; it wouldn’t be the first time. The first time had been when he’d first left St Albans and made his way home, Arthur had followed with emails and phone calls and letters, all unanswered until he’d shown up one morning when Arthur’s mother had been out. That had been the day Merlin had kissed his mother on the cheek and moved to France, extracting a promise from her that no one outside their tiny family unit know his final destination. Taking a deep, calming breath, Merlin pointed his car towards home. There would be no running this time, he was strong enough now to face whatever the coming weeks would throw at him and Gwen and Arthur aside, Lance needed him.


	4. Three

** Chapter Three **

Grey-purple light danced around the edges of his blinds and the morning air was crisp as Merlin rolled over, burying his face into his pillow. He briefly wondered if he could get away with calling in sick in an attempt to avoid Arthur, but quickly shrugged the thought off; even if he did call in sick, Lance knew where he lived and would no doubt bring Arthur with him when he visited. As he thought of Arthur, his stomach twisted as his mind drifted back to that morning almost two years ago.

_He’d woken late and panicked, he’d rushed from his bedroom only to freeze when he saw Gwen slipping out of Arthur’s room, clad only in a pair of Arthur’s footie shorts and the shirt Merlin had bought Arthur for his birthday. It had felt like the all of the oxygen within the flat had been sucked out before rushing back in with the force of a freight train. When Gwen turned and saw him, she flushed and gave a small wave before holding a finger to her lips._

_“Arthur’s still sleeping,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I may have exhausted him.” She smiled and shook her head before turning and heading to the bathroom._

Merlin shuddered and pulled his blankets around his shoulders. That had been the day he’d started slowly moving his stuff out of his shared flat with Arthur. His heart had fallen through the floor and never quite recovered. The fledgling whatever he’d had with Arthur, had ended before it had truly gotten off the ground and Merlin knew that a part of him would always hate that he’d never stayed, never fought for what he wanted; but ultimately he knew he’d done the right thing in leaving. He had loved them both too much to stand in the way of something that had made Gwen light up the way she had that morning.

Merlin grumbled as his alarm sounded and he pushed himself up, shoving off his thoughts about Gwen and Arthur just as he shoved his blankets aside to get ready for the day ahead.

==

Lance made his way up to the apartment, turning over everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Something didn’t sit right in his gut, not the way Merlin had reacted to Arthur, or the way Arthur had assumed the role of Spanish Inquisition in regards to his friend. He rolled his shoulders as he stood outside Merlin’s door, hand poised and ready to knock when the door opened and he came face to face with a surprised Merlin.

“Lance?” Merlin’s brow furrowed as he looked past Lance and into the corridor. “You do realise you could have waited until I got in to work this morning, right?”

Lance grinned and pushed past Merlin into the flat. “I could have, but you don’t have work today.”

“Um,” Merlin began, shutting the door and stepping back inside. “I’m pretty sure I’m rostered on until tomorrow.”

“You _were_ rostered on until tomorrow,” Lance corrected. “I spoke with the owner last night and organised for Nicholas to fill in for you today.”

Merlin ran a hand over his face, and slumped against the wall opposite Lance. “You couldn’t have called me last night after arranging this so I could at least sleep in?” He asked, already tugging at his tie.

Lance replied, “If I’d told you last night, you wouldn’t be here to open the door for me.” He flashed Merlin a smile which only widened when his friend rolled his eyes and stomped into the kitchen. Lance followed closely behind, taking a seat at the table and watching as Merlin pottered around the tiny space.

“You know, if you were going to ambush me as I was leaving for work, the least you could have done was bring breakfast.” Merlin said, pulling a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

“And miss out on your world-class French toast?” Lance asked, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

Merlin laughed and set about making breakfast.

==

Arthur rolled over and fumbled for his phone, grimacing as the alarm sounded. Lifting it up, he glared at it through bleary eyes, cursing when it slipped through his fingers and fell across the bridge of his nose. Scooping it up, he rubbed his nose and thumbed at the screen to open up the message screen.

_Lance Du Lac_

_05:30_

_Off 2 hv brkfst w/Merlin. Enjoy ur mrning of freedom. C U @ 11._

_83 Rue Royale 45000 Orleans, France._

Arthur sighed and tossed his phone towards the foot of the bed, he had three hours before he had to go and meet Lance and Merlin to pick out suits for the wedding, until then he could sleep a little more and mentally prepare himself for the day ahead.

==

Merlin stepped out of the kitchen and made his way to the living room. Breakfast with Lance had been comfortable, the niggling that there was something at the edge of their conversation had been present, however it had faded as they’d settled into the familiar pattern of teasing conversation. Now though, as he slid into his favourite armchair across from where Lance was sprawled across the sofa, whatever it was that had been on Lance’s mind since sitting down to breakfast seemed to fill the space between them.

“So, how long have you known Arthur?” Lance asked, watching Merlin close enough to notice when his entire body went still.

“Um,” Merlin began, trying to still the thundering in his chest. “About… twenty-four hours,” he finished, casting a quick look at the clock on his dvd player.

“And before I bought him into the hotel, yesterday morning?” Lance rolled his eyes as Merlin started to shake his head.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, curling his hands around the arms of his chair.

“C’mon, Merlin,” Lance said, leaning forward on the sofa and tilting his head so he was eye-to-eye with Merlin. “You can’t keep a secret to save your soul, and besides when you walked out of the office yesterday, Arthur looked like all of his Christmases had come at once, carried by the Ghost of Christmas Future.” Lance quirked an eyebrow at Merlin as though daring him to contradict him.

Merlin sighed, running a hand over his face to break eye contact with Lance and to give him a moment to sort his thoughts out.

“Fine,” Merlin said, shoulders slumping and his attention zeroing in on a spot just past Lance’s shoulder as he began to tell Lance everything about his relationship with Arthur prior to coming to France.

When Merlin finished, Lance sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What am I going to do with you?” He looked at Merlin and shook his head. “Are the next couple of weeks going to be a problem?”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No! I’m perfectly capable of… of being your best man. I’ve moved on,” he said, tipping his chin up and hoping that an air of confidence would help support his lie.

“Right,” Lance drawled his tone one that told Merlin he didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Anyway, we should get going. We’re meeting Arthur in a couple of hours to pick out suits for the wedding.”

“And we’re leaving now because?”

“I may, or may not want to purchase a present for my soon-to-be-wife?” Lance raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “You didn’t honestly think I’d let you crawl back into bed, did you?”

Merlin groaned, his head falling forward as he flipped Lance off. 


End file.
